Disconnection
by AryaEragonPrincessShadeslayer
Summary: Three years into their marriage, a new announcement throws a wrench into Draco and Hermione's lives.


"Hon?" Hermione called out, backing through the front door with a large paper grocery bag tucked under her arm. "Could use some help!"

"Hermione, how many times do I have to remind you that you're a witch?" Her husband replied, laughing as his wife glared at him from the front door.

"I don't need my wand for everything!" She replied, crossing through the front hall and tossing the bag on the counter. "Besides, we live in a Muggle neighborhood, it's not like I could have levitated the bag from the car, Draco."

"They wouldn't have noticed," he responded, beginning to tuck the groceries into their respective cupboards. While he had certainly come to terms with living in the neighborhood for the past three years, he continued to be shocked by the lengths many Muggles will go to ignore what was dancing right in front of them.

Hermione rolled her eyes, tucking her shoes neatly onto the shoe rack by the front door. Popping her head back into the kitchen, she informed her husband that she was going to run to take a shower before dinner. It had been a long day at the office.

As she trudged up the stairs to their shared bathroom, her mind traced over every agonizing second of the meeting with another Head of department that evening. She knew she couldn't change anything that had occurred, but it still didn't stop her of thinking of each possible alternative response, and how they may have changed the outcome.

If she had just nodded along instead of snorting (delicately!) at his proposed budget, she may not have put him in such a bad mood. If she hadn't made that joke about needing a glass of wine, maybe he would think better of her. If she…

She pulled the clip holding her curls back out, shaking her head to allow her curls to fallout across her shoulders. Her pale face shone back at her through the mirror.

She sighed. It had been a long few years.

"So… what do you think?"

Hermione glanced up at Ginny Potter from her lawn chair on the Burrow's back lawn.

"About what? If it has anything to do with James' butt, I don't want to know."

Ginny laughed. "No, not that. I'm certain Draco's told you – they're repealing the Marriage Law. All marriages can be dissolved with no penalty starting at the first of next month."

Hermione froze.

"Funny, isn't it? I wonder who we know that will divorce. I mean, besides Ron."

"Yeah, funny." Hermione responded.

"You okay?" Ginny leaned forward, taking a good look at Hermione's face. "You look a little peaky."

"Draco didn't tell me about that."

Ginny chucked. "Ah, I'm sure it's no big deal. It's not like the two of you would ever divorce – he's obsessed with you."

Hermione's lips curved slightly. "Yes, I got lucky with my match. Nobody could dispute that."

"Mama, mama, mama!" A tousle-haired toddler raced up to Ginny. "Mama, look… worm!"

"Gross, James," Ginny responded fondly. "Why don't you go show daddy?"

"Daddy, daddy!" The little one raced off. Hermione laughed.

"You never do get a break, do you?"

"Nah, but I wouldn't change it for the world. How's it going with you and Draco? Are you trying yet?" Ginny asked. "He's so great with the kids."

"Oh, Ginny, you know I'm too busy at work to even think about anything else," Hermione replied. "You wouldn't believe what Scrimshaw put me through at this meeting the other week!"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "You work too hard. Look, Hermione, if I thought you were happy at that job and climbing the ladder, you know I'd support you. But you've always wanted to be a mom. And you're exhausted all the time! Would you really have imagined yourself here five years ago?"

"I never would have imagined myself getting married to a man I didn't love because the Ministry wanted me to become a brooding mare, either." Hermione snapped. "Look, Ginny, I appreciate the advice, but maybe you should just keep it to yourself."

She stood and crossed into the Burrow, slipping into the kitchen to help Molly chop vegetables.

"Alright, are you going to tell me what's going on?" Draco inquired, cutting into his filet.

"What do you mean?" Hermione responded, crunching her eyebrows together as she glanced up across the dining table.

"You haven't been talking all night. Ever since the Burrow. Are you still upset about Quidditch?"

"You could've really hurt yourself, Draco." Hermione glared at him.

"Yeah, but that's not what you're mad about. That wouldn't put you in a funk like this." Draco set down his knife and fork, leaning toward his wife. "Tell me what's going on, Hermione. I'm your husband."

"Not by choice!"

Silence.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Hermione stared down at her plate. "Why didn't you tell me? That the Marriage law was being repealed? Ginny said that you and Harry both knew."

"I didn't think it mattered."

"If you didn't think it mattered, why didn't you tell me?"

"God damn it, Hermione, just tell me what's going on. I can't read your mind, you know that."

"I'm going to file for dissolution."

Draco's face went ashen. "Why… Hermione, why would you do that? Our marriage is great. We've been getting along, we have the same goals, we work well as a team. I love you!"

"Because, Draco, I'm not in love with you. I was forced to marry you when I was nineteen." Hermione sighed, rubbing her hand across her face.

"Look, I hate this Marriage Law. I hated it from the beginning. And, Draco, honestly, I don't think you're in love with me. These are not the circumstances under which people fall in love! You are happy, and complacent, and you would feel the same way about any woman who you got along with, regularly slept with, and lived with for three years."

"Don't you dare question my feelings for you, Hermione. Do not assume you know how I fell in love with you or how I feel about you," Draco hissed. "You never even tried to love me, did you?"

"I am not required to love you!" Hermione stood, her face darkening. "I do not have to love you because you love me. I did not HAVE to try to love you. You, nor any man I would have been forced to marry, are not owed my love, my emotion, or anything of that nature simply because I was the random piece of paper you drew out of a hat."

Hermione was breathing heavily now. "Everyone expects me to fall at your feet, and have your children, and love you simply because you treat me well. As if, had you treated me terribly, then I would be allowed to be in charge of my own emotions. Then I would have been allowed to use my own mind and decide for myself what I wanted."

Draco sat back in his chair, stunned. "Hermione, I…"

"No! No, Draco. You don't get to apologize for three years of assuming that I would just 'get over it' and fall for you because you're a good person. You ARE a good person. I'm proud of where you are. I care about what happens to you. And maybe – maybe, if I had been given the space to choose for myself, I could have freed up the space in my heart to love you. But I wasn't. And I can't give you what you want. And if you ever loved me, or even just respected me, then you would respect the part of me that was never going to fall in love with someone in the middle of some screwed up Stockholm Syndrome situation."

Hermione's breathing was ragged now, coming in hard bursts out of her chest. At some point, the tears had begun to track down her cheeks, but she didn't bother brushing them away. Exhausted, she sagged into her chair.

Silence reigned for nearly a minute.

"I'm sorry." Came a low voice across the table from her. "I didn't know you felt that way."

"I've felt that way since the beginning. You knew that."

"I… yes, you're right, I did. And you were justified. We were all angry." Draco looked up. "But you're right, I became complacent, and I forgot what you must have been going through."

Hermione stared at her clenched hands on the table. "Thank you, Draco."

The wooden chairs outside the Office for Family Affairs and Repopulation were stunningly uncomfortable. Hermione's shoes tapped a slow, steady rhythm on the carpeted hallway as her hands clasped, unclasped, and reclapsed in her lap.

"Malfoy." A short, reedy man with abnormally large glasses glanced down the hallway. Draco and Hermione were the only ones seated. "Welcome, come on in."

The wooden chairs across from Mr. Miller were, somehow, even more uncomfortable than the ones outside.

"Alright, so just a few questions before we can send you good folks on your way." Mr. Miller drawled, leaning back in his clearly comfortable leather chair.

"Whatever you need," Draco replied woodenly. "We don't have anywhere better to be anyway."

"Great," Miller droned. "Okay, so first of all, would you consider your marriage a successful one?"

"As we're here to dissolve it, clearly, no."

"Draco." Hermione admonished. "Mr. Miller, yes, I would say that for an arranged marriage, it was successful. However, the fact that it was arranged is the exact reason why we are here today."

"Mhm. Would you say one of you is more responsible for the choice to dissolve the marriage?"

Draco glanced at his wife.

"Yes, Mr. Miller, it was my choice." Hermione lifted her chin.

"And you, Mr. Malfoy?" Miller looked at the sullen man across from him.

"I'm abiding by my wife's wishes."

"Well, dissolution is only possible if both parties are entirely agreed." Miller explained. "If you do not agree with the dissolution, you will remain married."

Draco looked up, and then turned to look at Hermione. "No, Mr. Miller. I do not wish to trap my wife in a marriage she does not want."

Hermione smiled sadly at him, reaching over to squeeze his hand gently.

"Alright, then, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, if you'll just sign this form."

Two scribbles and some polite goodbyes later, the former Malfoys strode off down a long Ministry hallway, each headed in opposite directions.

"Thanks for your help, Gin." Hermione tucked a stray curl behind her ear.

"Anytime, Hermione. I just wish you had talked to me. While I don't understand it, we're all here for you, you know that." Hermione smiled tightly. She had heard the same from every one of her friends – and while she appreciated that her friends wanted to be there for her, she was getting tired of hearing about the lack of understanding regarding her choices.

_Bring_.

"What in Merlin's name was that?" Ginny yelped, leaping out of her chair.

"Relax, Gin, it's just a doorbell. A lot of Muggle apartments have them." Hermione crossed the room, wrenching open the door.

"Hey." Her ex-husband stood in the frame, his black t-shirt stark against the white walls of the hallway.

"Oh. Hey, Draco, come on in."

"Hey, Ginny." Draco drawled, raising a hand.

"Draco, good. You can help Hermione with these larger boxes, I need to get back to James." Ginny stood, strolling over to the fire. "I'll see you at Sunday brunch, yeah?"

At Draco's nod, she disappeared in a flash of green and smoke.

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about, Hermione."

"Oh, Draco, please come to brunch. You're still a member of the family." Hermione began, worried that the Weasleys would blame her if he skipped another.

"No, it's not that. I know you told me I could keep the house, but I wish you had let me know you were moving out today. I would have stopped you. I'm not staying."

"What do you mean, you're not staying?"

"I'm leaving England for a year. I asked to be put on a long term mission."

"Wait, what? Why?"

"Look, Hermione…" Draco traced a hand through his platinum locks, breathing hard through his nose. "I love you. I'm in love with you. And while I respect – and even understand – your position, it doesn't change that I love you."

Hermione stared back at him, her hands clasping, unclasping, and reclasping in front of her.

"But when I get back, if I'm still in love with you, I'm going to ask you out."

Hermione's mouth fell open. "I thought I told you…"

Draco raised a hand.

"Yes, Hermione, I know exactly what you told me. And you were right – the circumstances we were put in were not the ideal ones for two people to fall in love. But I did. And I think, if you would give me a chance. you might fall in love with me in the real world."

Draco stepped forward, kissed Hermione on the cheek, and strode to the door.

"One year, Hermione."

And he was gone.


End file.
